


Love In The Time of Herbology

by TheWriterNurse



Series: An Unexpected Pairing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bilbo is muggleborn, Hogwarts!au, M/M, Thorin is just a grumpypants, and loves plants and Herbology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3373943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterNurse/pseuds/TheWriterNurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone had told Thorin Durin, fifth year Slytherin and newly appointed captain of the Quidditch team, that he would be developing feelings for Bilbo Baggins, fifth year Hufflepuff prefect, he would have laughed right in their face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Small Talk

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing a Bagginshield fic! This Hogwarts!AU has been roaming around in my head for WEEKS now, and one night, I just felt the urge to finally write it down, so here it is! I'm still debating over the time period of this fic, and I've come to the conclusion that it is probably sometime post-Second Wizarding War, but way before second generation goes to Hogwarts.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

     If anyone had told Thorin Durin, fifth year Slytherin and newly appointed captain of the Quidditch team, that he would be developing feelings for Bilbo Baggins, fifth year Hufflepuff prefect, he would have laughed right in their face. It all started in Herbology class, of all places. At the start of term, Professor Sprout had decided to pair up the class for the year, making sure to put students together who were in different houses, "to discourage house segregation", she claimed. _What a load of bollocks_ , Thorin had thought sulkily, upset that he couldn't at least suffer through this with his best mate, Dwalin, who he knew didn’t care much for the subject either. He was determined to just plough through this class, get the Herbology O.W.L. over with, and then never have to delve into this terribly dull subject ever again.

     As soon as his name was called, Thorin took his seat, glancing over at the guy next to him. He was very much taken aback by the stunningly dark, chocolate brown eyes that met his own and continued to stare as a hand was held out to him.

     "Hi! I'm Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins," the boy in question introduced himself politely, a Hufflepuff by the looks of it.

     "Thorin," he gruffed back, shaking his hand briefly before letting go and proceeding to slouch in his seat as the lesson began. It was obvious he was uninterested in whatever Professor Sprout had to say, who was beginning the class by going over the different types of plants they would be studying this year in preparation for the O.W.L.s. Bilbo was the exact opposite, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, so much so that Thorin couldn’t help but notice, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. The Hufflepuff’s enthusiasm practically doubled as their plants were placed in front of them, quickly rifling through his textbook to get to the correct page.

     “This is my favorite class, you know,” Bilbo said conversationally, retrieving a quill and parchment from his backpack. “My dad’s a gardener, and I used to help him out all the time, especially in our yard back home. I still remember the first time I ever brought home a magical plant to him; he freaked out and wouldn’t stop studying it for the entire summer break! Though I don’t really blame him, I mean, before that, the most exciting thing we ever studied together was a venus fly trap.”

     “Your dad’s a muggle?” Thorin asked, picking up on it right away. He wasn’t usually one for small talk, and typically ignored it entirely, but there was something about this boy that intrigued him. Maybe the kid was just too annoying to brush off.

     Bilbo’s cheeks pinked a bit at the question; he didn’t mean to reveal his background so quickly, as he had found some of his peers still weren’t keen on the idea of muggleborns, which was ridiculous in this day and age. But it seemed prejudice would always be there to rear its ugly head, no matter what, and it was nothing new. He had been dealing with it for almost five years now.

     “Yes, yes he is. My mum’s a muggle, too, and I’ll have you know that just because I didn’t grow up in this world with magical parents, that doesn’t make me less of a wizard! I am just as qualified to wield a wand as you are,” Bilbo huffed, his entire face now beet red as he focused his gaze on the class assignment. Thorin had been taken by complete surprise at the sudden outburst that had been thrown at him, not feeling he had said anything in particular to elicit it.

     “I was just asking; I didn’t mean to imply anything against your abilities,” Thorin stated matter-of-factly, finally making an effort to open his book, though he really had no intention of even touching the plant.

     “Yes, well, I’ve found it’s easier to start off on the defense rather than be openly exposed for ridicule,” Bilbo answered, avoiding Thorin’s gaze pointedly. It was obvious that others had commented on the Hufflepuff’s background in the past, hence why he had adopted the attitude he currently sat with.

     Thorin didn’t interact with many muggleborns, as his entire family and even his friends were all pureblooded, so he was just naturally surrounded by such. Sad to say, his family, particularly his father’s side, encouraged the idea that magical folk were superior; the only person not to instill this into his head was his mother, who had informed him, despite his father’s ideals, that magical background really had nothing to do with ability. Upon entering school and being exposed to others who did not grow up the same way as he had, Thorin had discovered this to be true. However, he found it safer not to discuss his findings, especially to his father and grandfather.

     That was the end of their small talk, and the two stayed quiet for the remainder of the class, Bilbo studying the plant intently while Thorin sat back and stared at it, occasionally flipping through his text to appear busy. Once class let out, they went their separate ways, and Thorin’s lingering thoughts about the hot-headed Hufflepuff began dissipating as he met up with Dwalin to head to Potions.


	2. Smaug, The Fire-Breathing Flytrap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so overwhelmed by all the feedback and kudos, thanks so much, guys! ♥

     It took them a long while, but eventually they started warming up to each other. At first, they barely spoke during the class period, Bilbo only piping up to correct Thorin whenever he handled their plants wrong, and Thorin barely muttering in response. It went on like this for several classes, until they soon found that, no matter how hard they tried, they were unable to complete all their assignments during the time allotted. They were required to write essays - together - on every plant they studied and realized they would eventually have to meet outside of class to work on them, which neither was exactly keen on doing.

     "Let's just get this over with, alright? The library around four?" Bilbo suggested.

     "Fine by me," Thorin grumbled.

\---

     They had only been working on the paper for about an hour when Thorin threw his quill across the table in irritation.

     "This is boring as hell! How can you even concentrate enough to write anything?!" He had never been so frustrated with a subject in his entire life.

     "That's how most people feel about History of Magic, myself included," Bilbo chuckled. As fascinating as it was to learn about the Wizarding World, especially since he didn’t grow up in it, he could never get into any kind of history.

     "Well, learning about our ancestors and their past mistakes and triumphs prepares us for the future," Thorin reasoned. His father and grandfather had always stressed the idea that learning from their people would only benefit them in the long run. "I just can't get into learning about _leaves and shit_."

     Sensing Thorin’s unyielding frustration, Bilbo closed both their books and began packing up his things. "Come with me."

     Somewhat reluctantly, Thorin was led out of the library, through the front doors, and out to where the greenhouses were located, but instead of going in, Bilbo took them around to a back area, where they never ventured during class. They soon reached a locked gate, and while Thorin fully expected him to either turn back or _alohomora_ it open, the Hufflepuff instead took out a key and unlocked it.

     "Before you ask," he said as they made their way in, "Professor Sprout entrusted me with a key to her storage garden. Strictly for the purposes of further research, of course. I'm no burglar."

     "I couldn't picture you as one anyway," Thorin had to remark, looking around, his eyes roaming around a magnificent sight. They had found themselves in what looked like an immense, private garden, completely surrounded by thousands upon thousands of plants, all of different shapes and sizes, some stationary, some moving far too frequently, particularly when they passed by.

     "Watch where you walk. You're bound to lose a limb if you trample on even a single vine,” Bilbo warned as they carefully maneuvered around the area. Thorin had to admit, this place was breathtakingly impressive, and from the sounds of it, rather dangerous, though he had never found plants particularly threatening, no matter how many man-eating species there were in existence. They ventured on until they found what they were looking for: one of the fire-breathing flytraps they had been studying this past week. Bilbo approached it slowly, making sure it was aware of his presence. When he was within a few inches of it, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bag of dead grasshoppers, feeding it to the flytrap and taking the opportunity to grab it by the pot and quickly place it on the nearest table.

     “As fun as it is to read about them,” Bilbo said as they slipped on their dragon-hide gloves, “I’m sure you learn better by doing.”

     Pulling up a couple of chairs, he proceeded to teach Thorin about this particular plant, showing him how to properly handle it and even giving the Slytherin some dead insects to feed it in order to gain its trust. After some time, Thorin learned practically everything there was to know about the flytrap and was even tempted to take Smaug, as he had so christened it, back to the castle with him, but Bilbo wouldn’t allow it.

     “No one’s ever really taught anything to me like that,” Thorin admitted, attempting to verbally express his gratitude as he dodged a small fireball Smaug had sneezed out.

     “I used to tutor some of the younger years, when I didn’t have O.W.L.s and prefect duties to worry about,” Bilbo said, aiming his wand at Thorin’s braid, which had caught fire. “I don’t usually take people into the storage garden, but I figured you wouldn’t be an idiot and get yourself eaten alive or injured like some others would.”

     “You’d be surprised,” Thorin responded, grinning at the Hufflepuff as he finally had the sense to tie his hair before getting near the plant again. After finishing their paper, they headed back to the castle together, both quiet save for some occasional small talk here and there. From then on, after classes, Bilbo would take Thorin to the garden to elaborate on the day’s lesson with a one-on-one session and write their essays.


	3. "Just Friends"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some friendly meddling ;)

     It soon got to a point where Bilbo helped him out so much during class, Thorin didn’t actually need the extra lessons in the garden, but he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with the Hufflepuff, even starting to enjoy Herbology far more than he ever anticipated. It wasn’t long until his friends started getting curious about his whereabouts.

     “Thorin,” Dwalin confronted him after Quidditch practice one evening as they headed back to the dungeons, both exhausted after hours of flying around the pitch in preparation for their first game in only a few weeks’ time. “What’s up with you spending all your free time with that Baggins kid nowadays? The Herbology essays aren’t _that_ hard.”

     “I don’t spend _all_ my free time with him,” Thorin defended himself, wiping the sweat off his brow. “And you know I have a hard time with that snooze of a class.”

     (Though that really hadn’t been the case lately, as even Professor Sprout had noticed his improvement and praised him for it.)

     “Well I barely see you outside of practice nowadays, and when I do, you’re in the library with him.”

     “Yeah well, these O.W.L. courses are starting to kick my arse.”

     Thorin realized, not only was he working on Herbology essays with Bilbo, but they had also taken to doing coursework for their other classes together, as he helped the Hufflepuff out with History of Magic whenever he got stuck on something. He reasoned with himself that he was just doing it to return the favor, but in reality, he genuinely enjoyed being with Bilbo, finding himself starting to miss him whenever they had to part ways. Thankfully, his best mate dropped the subject for now, going back to talking Quidditch strategy.

\---

     However, Dwalin wasn’t the only one starting to pick up on it.

     “So Thorin, who’s the cute new study buddy I see you with so often?” Dís asked one morning in the Great Hall during breakfast. Thorin felt his cheeks start to heat up at the mention of Bilbo, cursing himself internally for his own uncontrolled reaction that she was bound to notice.

     “Oh it’s just Bilbo. He’s my greenhouse partner in Herbology.” Thorin tried to play it off as nothing, waving his hand nonchalantly as he spoke, but his younger sister knew better than that.

     “He’s Ori’s best mate, you know,” the Slytherin girl continued on while peeling a blueberry muffin. Ori, another Hufflepuff fifth year, was the son of one of their father’s closest friends and therefore another pureblood they practically grew up with. “I could...ask him about Bilbo for you, if you want.”

     “And why would I want you to do that?”

     “Well brother dearest, it seems you’ve developed quite an interest in him.”

     “We’re just studying together, Dís. It’s not a big deal,” Thorin remarked, wanting to get as far away from the subject as possible.

     “Oh whatever, Thorin! First it’s ‘studying together’, then ‘just talking’, and soon it’ll be, ‘oh we’re just snogging and falling in love, no big deal!’” Dís was determined to get the scoop on this, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, as always. Thorin was generally a private person, keeping his own affairs to himself, but he and his little sister were so close, it was downright impossible to keep anything from her for very long.

     “I assure you, that will not be the case, and that is the end of this conversation,” Thorin said, once and for all. But he knew, as much as he tried, this wouldn’t be the last he heard of it.

+++

     “So you and Thorin, huh?”

     Bilbo was it the middle of cutting into a particularly good slice of apple pie when Ori decided to bring up the subject during lunch.

     “What about me and Thorin?”

     “Oh come now, Bilbo, we see you with him after class, practically everyday now!”

     “He’s been helping me out with History of Magic. By the way, did you finish that essay on the first Giant War yet? It’s a doozy.”

     “Don’t change the subject, William ‘Bilbo’ Baggins!” Primula Brandybuck, his other best mate, piped up. She always used his real first name whenever she meant business. “Now what’s the story on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”

     “There is no story,” Bilbo said, his attempts at trying to sound convincing not fooling his friends one bit. “We’re Herbology partners, that’s all.”

     “Hmph. I don’t believe it for one second. Do you, Ori?”

     “Not the way Bilbo looks at him.”

     “I do not _look at Thorin_ a certain way! We’re just friends, alright?!” he exclaimed indignantly, earning a few glances his way. He was starting to get irritated with his friends and their incessant meddling, particularly on a subject that didn’t warrant any attention whatsoever. So what if he looked forward to going to the library or the storage garden with Thorin everyday after classes? He was allowed to have friends outside of his usual circle, wasn’t he? Not that what they had could really be constituted as a friendship per se, when all they really did was homework together. However, he still considered the Slytherin a friend, a very unexpected one, given their rocky start, but a friend nonetheless. Nevermind how much more Bilbo wished they would be. No no, he mustn’t think of that, especially when Prim and Ori were around.

     “If it helps, Thorin’s a really good guy. His da’s friends with my da, so we’ve known each other practically all our lives. I heard he’s really good on dates,” Ori said, mostly whispering that last bit to Prim, who giggled. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the pair of them, and continued eating his pie, fighting as hard as he could against thoughts of what the Slytherin would be like on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda switched perspective on that last bit...tried to signify a perspective change with the different section breaker, since mostly it's been in Thorin's POV. I'll try not to switch it up too often to avoid confusion. :)


	4. For Good Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write, partially because of the feels it references to (but this time it's happy!). Hope you guys enjoy!

     “Here, you stroke the stem just like this.” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and guided his fingers gently over the temperamental plant they were working with this week, and within seconds, the fanged geranium let out a relaxed sigh and stopped trying to bite everything in sight, allowing the boys to study it up close without fear of losing their noses. Thorin was more focused on their hands touching than anything else, electricity sparking between them the instant their hands met. He was saddened by the loss of contact as Bilbo let go to jot down his observations, and let his gaze wander over to the Hufflepuff, who was diligently writing his notes, pausing every now and then to glance back up at their subject. After a few minutes, Bilbo noticed Thorin looking at him and flashed him a smile, causing the Slytherin to quickly avert his eyes, trying hide his blush and turn his attention back to their plant, which was attempting to bite playfully at his arm.

     All he could think about was Bilbo: the way he got overly excited about every Herbology class, the way his big, brown eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he would blow a stray curl away whenever it obstructed his vision. After weeks (more like months) of denial, he had finally admitted to himself that he had somehow fallen for the Hufflepuff seated next to him. He blamed Professor Sprout for this; if it hadn’t been for her and her stupid Herbology class, he wouldn’t be wrestling with these feelings he was harboring.

     Thorin hadn’t told anyone, not even Dwalin or Dís, and he wasn’t planning on doing so. His only plan was to continue suppressing these feelings until they went away on their own, but after merely catching glimpses of that beautiful smile almost everyday, he knew his efforts were futile.

     “Thorin?”

     The Slytherin was snapped out of his thoughts by the one who occupied them, the Hufflepuff’s small hand waving in front of his face to catch his attention. Thorin looked at him in surprise, giving him a questioning look.

     “Class just ended. I asked if you still wanted to meet up this afternoon?”

     “Yes, certainly. The garden?”

     “I’ll see you there.”

\---

     “You know, Thorin, I don’t think you need my help much anymore. You’re really getting the hang of this,” Bilbo remarked as they played around with their plant from class earlier, as well as the flytrap, Smaug, from a few lessons ago that the Slytherin had taken a particular liking towards, despite its fiery demeanor at times.

     “Only because you’re teaching me,” he noted, chuckling as the geranium growled at Smaug, who retaliated by spitting out tiny fireballs playfully. He managed to dodge them this time around, still sporting three-quarters of a braid from last time. “You think I’ll be ready for the O.W.L., come spring?”

     “More than ready,” Bilbo answered confidently, finishing off their essay with a flourish of his quill before tucking it into his textbook for safekeeping. “You think I’ll be ready for the History of Magic O.W.L.?”

     “Definitely,” Thorin said just as assuredly, procrastinating packing up his stuff at the end of their study session. He hated leaving the garden with Bilbo, at times wishing they could just stay there together, just the two of them, for the rest of their days, but he had Quidditch practice and that was the one thing he couldn’t afford to miss.

\---

     “You going to the game next weekend?” Thorin asked during one of their afternoon study breaks. It was his first Quidditch match as captain, and needless to say, he was nervous as hell. It was as if he had been groomed for this position his entire life: throughout the centuries, the Durin family had been famous for their star Quidditch players. The Chudley Cannons, what was once the least successful team in the whole country, had represented England and won the Quidditch World Championship two times in a row, the most recent win all thanks to their current captain and keeper, Thorin’s father, Thráin. The last time England had taken home the cup, the captain and seeker was Thrór, Thorin’s grandfather, now a retired player and long-time head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Needless to say, Thorin was expected to follow in their footsteps, and he was proud and ready to carry on the tradition.

     “Oh you’re playing, right?” Bilbo asked, knowing fully well that it was Thorin’s first game. Just listening to the Slytherin talk animatedly about the sport, his eyes absolutely lighting up at any mention of the subject, the Hufflepuff knew it was what he wanted to do with his life, and he admired him for it. Bilbo barely knew the correct way to sit on a broomstick, let alone toss a Quaffle around on it.

     “Yeah, first game of the season for my team. Slytherin versus Hufflepuff.”

     “Gryffindor creamed us a few weeks back. Can’t even imagine the desolation your team’s gonna put us through,” he chuckled. To this day, he still had a hard time getting the hand of Quidditch, as the players moved insanely fast, and he frequently developed headaches from watching them. But he always made sure to go whenever his house played, and this game was one he was definitely not going to miss.

\---

     Saturday soon arrived, and the pitch was slowly starting to fill up, the minutes quickly ticking by until the start of the game. Thorin was sitting in the tent with his team members, mentally preparing himself, when a smaller figure entered, catching the eye of everyone there. Thorin looked up to see who it was and his lips upturned into a smile when he saw Bilbo standing there, looking rather out of place among the sea of green.

     "I just wanted to wish you good luck before your first game, _captain_ ," he uttered quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself, impossible as it was. "And I wanted to give you this."

     Bilbo held out his hand, and there in his palm, sat an acorn.

     "I was doing some inventory in the garden the other day for Professor Sprout and found this. So far as I know, we don't have any plants that produce them, so it was odd finding one there. I know it's not much, but acorns are said to bring good luck and I, I just wanted you to have it."

     Without saying anything, Thorin stood up and gave Bilbo a bone-crushing hug, momentarily forgetting that his teammates were still there, practically watching their every move. The Hufflepuff, though taken by complete surprise, immediately hugged back, feeling Thorin's warmth radiate onto him and wishing they could stay like this forever. Eventually Thorin had to let go, looking down at Bilbo and gently taking the acorn from him.

     "Thank you, Bilbo. I shall keep this on my person at all times."

     He slipped the acorn into his left sock, making sure it was in there snugly. Bilbo nodded wordlessly, making his way out of the tent, avoiding the eyes of all the other players as he left. Dís grinned at her brother, nearly skipping as she quickly made her way over to him.

     "Looks like you're not the only one with a crush, brother dear!" she practically squealed. Thorin couldn't say anything, sitting back down and letting his hand rest over the place where the acorn was, his heart thumping in his chest, and not entirely because of the game approaching.

\---

     Suffice it to say, Slytherin was victorious, Thorin and the other chasers' goals unblockable and Dís having caught the snitch in three hours' time, leading to a thorough celebration of silver and green. Despite the fact that his house had lost, Bilbo was glad Thorin had been triumphant, as he knew how hard the Slytherin had been practicing; many of their recent study sessions had been cut short due to it, much to Bilbo's displeasure (and Thorin's, too, though he didn’t let on).

     As he, Ori, and Prim were leaving the pitch, Thorin, still drenched in sweat and completely surrounded by his teammates loudly celebrating, caught sight of them. He tried to get the Hufflepuff's attention but failed, the crowd around him too thick to be seen through, and had to settle for staring longingly as Bilbo walked back to the castle with his housemates. He pulled the acorn out from his sock, gazing down at it and smiling to himself. He gripped it tightly in his hand, silently vowing to never be without it.

     Unbeknownst to Thorin, Bilbo had seen him before leaving at the end of the game, but didn't want to interrupt their celebration that was likely to go on through the evening. It made the Hufflepuff happy to see his friend like that, grinning madly after a hard-earned and well-deserved win. Wondering if the Slytherin still had the acorn, Bilbo shook his head, knowing it was silly to think that an insignificant token such as that would hold any kind of importance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ACORN FEELS. T_T


	5. Self-Fertilizing Shrubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo being ridiculous and adorbs, as usual.  
> Also Dwalin is the best bro bestie ever.

     "Okay seriously, Thorin, something needs to be done."

     Thorin looked over at Dwalin questioningly as they ate dinner in the Great Hall one evening. "What?"

     "You've been staring over at that Baggins kid for the past five minutes."

     "I was just staring into space. I didn't know Bilbo was right there."

     "Bullshit. Whenever you're not with him, you’re making sickening googly eyes at him. As if I wouldn't notice," Dwalin muttered that last sentence in disbelief. They've been best friends their entire lives; they could practically read each other's minds at this point.

     "We're just friends, Dwalin," Thorin said, catching himself staring at Bilbo again and trying to make it seem like he wasn't, looking pointedly at his food. Even he couldn’t believe himself, he sounded so unconvincing.

     "Either you ask him out, or I'll ask him out for you."

     "You wouldn't."

     "Watch me."

     Dwalin promptly stood up and started moving away from the table when Thorin grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to sit back down.

     "Okay, okay, I believe you." He usually knew better than to call him out on a bluff like that; if there was anyone who was true to his word, it was Dwalin.

     Thorin sighed, running his hand through his thick, long hair. He wanted to ask Bilbo out, he really did. He had been longing to for weeks now, especially after the acorn incident, and even planned on doing so the next time he was with him. But every time they were within close proximity, Thorin lost all his nerve, becoming weak at the knees at the sight of that adorable head of curls and blinding smile.

     "I dunno, Dwalin. I'm in way too deep."

     "Well I could've told you that," Dwalin chuckled. "Doesn't mean you can't still ask."

     "What if he says no?" He had never sounded so unsure in his entire life.

     "Then I'll have to pound some sense into him until he says yes, simple as that!"

     "You will do no such thing!"

     "Then ask him already!"

     "You really think I should?"

     "Oh my merlin, Thorin, yes!"

     As nervous as he was feeling now, it eased Thorin's mind a little to know his best mate approved. There was no way in hell Dwalin would encourage him to ask someone out so much if he didn't approve of the guy. Thorin remembered the first time he came out to him. It was just two summers ago, his father's teammate had a daughter home from Beauxbatons that Thráin was blatantly pushing on Thorin. Sensing his discomfort right away, Dwalin stepped in and charmed the French girl right off her feet. Later that night, Thorin confessed that, after all their time talking about and hitting on girls all summer, he had realized he was gay. Dwalin responded nonchalantly, saying he figured it out a long time ago. Thorin couldn't have asked for a better best mate.

\---

     It was when they had found themselves in the garden once again, Bilbo showing Thorin how to properly handle the self-fertilizing shrubs, that the Slytherin finally plucked up the courage. That afternoon study session, as well as practically the entire day, Thorin had been unable to concentrate on anything, his mind solely focused on the task at hand. Thankfully, Bilbo hadn’t seemed to notice and was going about business as usual, digging through his bag for his book and notes while instructing Thorin to crouch down so that the shrubs were at eye level. In the middle of trying to say something, the Slytherin did as he was told, but failed to notice that he was leaning much too far forward, and before he could stop himself, he fell face first right into the shrubbery just as they were in the middle of fertilizing.

     “Thorin!”

     Bilbo rushed to his side, helping him to sit up. He stifled a laugh at the sight of Thorin, his face absolutely covered in fertilizer, and reached around to grab a wash cloth, quickly moistening it. The only good thing about having that muck all over his face was that it hid the bright blush rising to his cheeks as Bilbo gently wiped it away, eliciting a small, embarrassed smile from Thorin.

     “Thanks,” he said quietly as the two of them sat there on the ground of the garden, the soft sounds of the shrubbery still fertilizing itself in the background.

     “No problem,” Bilbo answered, trying not to giggle as he grabbed another washcloth to get it out of Thorin’s hair.

     “I umm, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something, and I really wasn’t planning on doing so with shrub-made dung on my face, but here goes.” Thorin took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Bilbo’s eyes as he spoke, his heart practically pounding through his chest. “Would you like to have dinner sometime? With me?”

     Bilbo paled at the unexpected question, obviously taken by complete surprise, dropping the washcloth mid-wipe. It was this reaction that caused Thorin to immediately wish he could take it back, that he could rewind time so that he would have never opened his big mouth in the first place.

     “Are, are you asking me on a date?” It was Bilbo’s turn to turn red, neither of them able to look each other in the eye.

     “I am. But only if you want to. I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have asked, I just - ”

     “Thorin,” Bilbo said, placing a hand on his arm as he interrupted the Slytherin’s nervous rambling. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

     “Really?” Thorin almost couldn’t believe it, flashing the Hufflepuff a brilliant smile.

     “Really.”

     Bilbo leaned over to grab the washcloth again and finished wiping Thorin’s face, both boys quiet, but absolutely beaming with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the end of this fic and then I'd write another installment, but I decided this one felt too incomplete without it so the next one will have their first date! :)


	6. Just A Kiss Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first date! :)

     Bilbo was rifling through his trunk, tossing out jumper after jumper in a haste to find the right one. Primula and Ori were both sat on his four poster bed, dodging the flying clothing and watching in amusement as their friend frantically searched for the perfect first date outfit.

     “What about that maroon one that brings out your eyes?” Primula suggested, ducking just as a sweater vest came right in the direction of her head. Bilbo perked up at those words, searching even more hurriedly until he pulled out the aforementioned jumper in triumph, quickly slipping it on. Prim praised the outfit choice while Ori nodded in agreement, but Bilbo still wasn’t one hundred percent sure, glancing at the mirror indecisively and doing a few turns. He started wondering aloud if he should change his trousers (for the seventh time) when Prim finally stood up, took him by the arms, and forcefully sat him down.

     “Bilbo, I know this is your first date with Thorin, but seriously, no matter what you wear, you’re going to look _amazing_ ,” she said reassuringly, pulling the pair of slacks out of his hand and tossing them back into his trunk.

     “You really think so?”

     “I _know_ so. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you!”

     Bilbo smiled a small, nervous smile, fiddling with the hem of his jumper. He supposed there was nothing more he could do with his look at this point; he would just have to go as is.

\---

     Bilbo's nervousness was nothing compared to Thorin's, his poor attempts at concealing it quickly becoming futile as the day soon turned to evening. He had literally washed his hair so many times, his housemates were starting to wonder if he had contracted lice or something.

     "Thorin, you need to _calm down_ ," Dís said as her older brother towel-dried his dark locks for a fourth time that day. "And if you keep messing with your hair so much, you will go bald, so stop!"

     Thorin pointedly ignored his sister’s words, though he combed through his hair slowly that time, taking care not to pull out any strands as he detangled. He rubbed his chin in the mirror, proud of the beard that was starting to develop. The men in their family were known for their magnificent beards, and he would soon be joining the ranks and sporting one of them.

     “You should probably shave that.”

     “Are you mad? It’s just starting to come in!” Thorin looked at her, appalled that she would even suggest such a thing.

     “I think Bilbo would appreciate a clean-shaven man,” Dís remarked, standing in front of him to help him with the braids he always had in his hair, another family trait.

     “You don’t even know him.”

     “And who’s fault is that?”

     “Mine, and I will do everything I can to continue prolonging the introduction for as long as possible.”

     Dís gave him a prominent pout at those words, but Thorin didn’t relent. His sister meeting Bilbo just spelled absolute disaster for him, and probably every embarrassing story she can fit into one conversation. It would do well for them to never meet, ever, though he knew it was only a matter of time until the youngest Durin tracked the Hufflepuff down, which she would be inclined to do.

     As soon as Thorin deemed himself ready, every strand of hair in place, his start-of-a-beard properly groomed, he left the dorm to go meet up with Bilbo at the entrance to the Hufflepuff Basement, but not before Dís got one more word in edgewise.

     "Word of advice from your loving sister,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek for luck, “don't muck this up."

     "Thanks, sis."

\---

     As Thorin walked from dungeons to the basement, he felt his nerves starting to creep up on him again, causing butterflies to flutter around in his stomach. It was exactly like how he felt before every Quidditch match: confident but nervous, excited, pretty much anticipating anything. But as much as he loved the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making his fingertips tingle, he was aware of how different this particular situation was. He didn’t generally have to talk much out on the Quidditch pitch, but on a date, he was expected to be loquacious and charming, of which he felt he was neither. He hoped Bilbo would do most of the talking, and he could just sit there and listen all night, which was something he definitely didn’t mind doing with him.

     Rounding the corner, he spotted Bilbo standing in front of the pile of barrels, looking as adorable as ever in a comfy red jumper and jeans. Some of Thorin’s uneasiness starting melting away at the sight of him, and as soon as they caught each other’s eye, they both smiled, immediately walking towards one another.

     “You look great,” Thorin said, offering his arm in a gentlemanly fashion.

     “So do you,” Bilbo said as he took it, looping their arms together. They took a few steps before Thorin stopped, right in front of the painting of fruit that was the entrance to the kitchens.

     “Hold on a sec, Bilbo, I need to make one stop.” He tickled the pear of the portrait, revealing the green doorknob, and they walked in, the house elves still running around, hard at work, making sure the Great Hall was still full of food for dinner. Thorin looked at them expectantly until one stopped, recognizing his face, and scurried away before returning to present him with blankets and a large picnic basket, brimming with freshly made contents. Taking them off her hands, Thorin thanked the elf and led Bilbo back out of the kitchens, now making their way out of the castle.

     “So we’re going on a picnic, huh?” Bilbo asked, the aroma of warm food wafting from the basket, hitting his nostrils and causing his tummy to rumble. Thorin only grinned in response as they walked through the large, wooden doors and out onto the grounds, in the direction of the Black Lake. In their five years at Hogwarts, Bilbo had only been outside at night a handful of times, typically for class-related purposes, such as to study certain plants that only bloomed in the moonlight, but this was far from anything like that.

     They reached the edge of the lake, the almost full moon reflecting brightly on the still surface, and they continued to walk until they reached a particularly large, old oak tree; it was there that Thorin dropped the basket and began laying out the blankets for their picnic spot. Bilbo’s stomach grumbled again as they unpacked the basket, an array of different, delicious foods for them to feast upon.

     As they ate, Bilbo glanced up at the night sky, which was absolutely littered with millions of stars, a magnificent sight, but all Thorin could focus on was him.

     “It’s so beautiful out here,” the Hufflepuff remarked, digging his fork into the roast on his plate.

     “Yeah, it is,” Thorin said, but his eyes still didn’t even glance at their surroundings. He found himself inching towards Bilbo, still at a somewhat respectable distance, where they were just shy of touching.

     “I bet this is where you take all your dates,” Bilbo remarked with a smirk.

     “No. Just you.” He answered, his words full of so much honesty, the Hufflepuff felt his breath catch in his throat.

     "Well I'm glad you did."

\---

     After dinner and dessert (strawberry cheesecake, one of Bilbo's favorites), they went for a walk along the side of the lake, their hands bumping every so often until Thorin finally took hold of Bilbo's, lacing their fingers together. Bilbo leaned his head comfortably against the side of Thorin's shoulder as they walked, the Slytherin finding he wasn't as inept at conversation as he had previously thought, asking Bilbo about his home life and childhood.

     “I think I was five or six at the time,” Bilbo reminisced, his thumb stroking over Thorin’s hand in his, causing the Slytherin's heart to beat irregularly. “I was laying in the garden one spring, admiring the flowers my father had just planted, when I noticed one of them hadn’t bloomed yet. So I started talking to it, encouraging it to grow. Suddenly, it started growing, and then a bunch of other flowers started appearing out of nowhere until I was surrounded by them! And I’m pretty sure that was the first time I did magic, that I can remember anyway.”

     Thorin’s heart swelled at the idea of a tiny Bilbo, sitting amongst a field of flowers, created from his own magic.

     “I can’t remember the first time I showed my powers,” Thorin admitted, letting Bilbo lead him further away from the castle, the grounds calmly quiet that night. “It was probably something insignificant, like knocking things off a shelf during a tantrum or something.”

     “Well I bet your mother remembers. Mine still tells the stories to all my friends,” Bilbo remarked with a knowing roll of his eyes. Belladonna Baggins was insanely proud of her gifted son, almost forgetting that it had to be kept secret from the rest of their family and Bilbo having to constantly remind her of this fact.

     "I wouldn't mind hearing a few more of those stories."

     "I'm sure you wouldn't, but you won't be hearing them from me, no sir."

     Thorin frowned at him for that, to which Bilbo could only smirk.

     "Oh no, that's not gonna work on me," the Hufflepuff said, though it was apparent that his defense was weakening by the minute.

      Eventually he had them both laughing about one incident in the bathtub when he was seven, and another time at grade school when he was ten.

      It took a little bit more effort on Bilbo’s part to get Thorin to come out of his shell, but in due time, the Slytherin was telling stories about himself, growing up with his siblings, Quidditch, everything. Bilbo felt he could have listened to it all night.

     Which they realized they both had, as by the time they were practically exhausted of stories, it was well past one o’clock in the morning. Bilbo, being the responsible prefect that he was, noted that they both had classes in a few hours’ time and should be heading back inside.

     It was obvious in their matching glacial pace that neither was in a hurry to head to their separate dormitories, their hands still clasped together, silently catching each other's eye every so often and smiling shyly. Both glanced at the pile of barrels with somewhat disappointment, almost not wanting to keep walking but knowing they had to. Once they reached the entrance to the Hufflepuff basement, they stopped and faced each other.

     “Thank you for a great evening, Bilbo,” Thorin said, giving the back of the Hufflepuff's hand a gentle kiss.

     “It was my pleasure,” Bilbo said with a grin, making no effort whatsoever to release his hand from Thorin's hold.

     “Well, good night, Bilbo.”

     "Good night, Thorin."

     Again, neither made any move to let go, and instead of moving apart, they subconsciously inched closer. They were so close, Thorin could feel Bilbo's warmth radiating against him, making him almost shiver with returned nervousness. He knew it was probably too soon to do so, but he couldn't fight it any longer.

     “Bilbo, can I, can I kiss y-”

     Before Thorin could finish his question, Bilbo had pulled him down roughly by the back of his head, their lips crashing together in an awkward, but wonderful kiss. It took Thorin by surprise, and he initially froze at the touch, but eventually enveloped the Hufflepuff’s soft lips in between his in a tender caress, kissing back with fervor. Thorin had always imagined their first to be tentative, on the shy side even, but this was far from it. It started off gentle for a moment, but soon became full of passion, pent-up emotion that had been bubbling just below the surface until it finally found an outlet and there was no getting enough. Thorin got so caught up in their kiss, it was Bilbo who had to slowly pull away after a few seconds for them to catch their breaths. Thorin slowly opened his eyes, his head spinning as he grinned down at the Hufflepuff, whose return smile was just as bright, his eyes still closed as if savoring the feel. Thorin took the opportunity to place his hands on Bilbo's cheeks, slowly running his thumbs over his cheekbones, making the Hufflepuff whimper with want, their breaths mingling with wordless anticipation.

     "Kiss me again," Bilbo whispered, and Thorin did as he was told, pressing his lips hard against the Hufflepuff's once more, their mouths moving sensually together, slotting in place perfectly as if made for each other. The Slytherin tilted his head to the side to get a better angle, deepening their kiss and pulling soft sighs from both their mouths. Thorin gently guided him against the wall next to the basement entrance, running his fingers through Bilbo’s honey curls as the Hufflepuff’s hands, which had taken hold of Thorin by the shirt, moved right into his hair as well, one hand right at the nape of his neck, the other lost in his dark locks.

     They stayed like that for several minutes, locked in their embrace, both memorizing the intoxicating feeling of being with each other. By the time they had to break their kiss the second time, they were gasping for air but still close, continuing to hold onto each other. Thorin ran his callused hand over Bilbo’s cheek once more, causing the Hufflepuff to sigh contentedly, placing his hand over Thorin’s.

     “I don’t want to say good night,” Thorin whispered, his lips hovering just centimeters away from his again.

     “Me neither,” Bilbo said, leaning forward again for another quick kiss, letting his lips linger on the Slytherin’s for a few seconds before letting go, causing Thorin to hum in disappointment. The Hufflepuff giggled before kissing him a few more times, until he remembered that they were supposed to be saying good night.

     “Thorin,” he said, with Thorin’s lips pressed against his once more.

     “Hmm?”

     “It’s almost two in the morning.”

     “I know.”

     “So we should probably end our date.”

     “But I don’t want to,” Thorin remarked with a pout, his arms now wrapped around Bilbo’s waist with practically no space between them.

     “I know, I don’t want to either, but we should.”

     Thorin sighed, unwrapping his arms to pull Bilbo by the hand towards the barrels. They stopped right in front of the entrance again, and Bilbo pulled him close to get one last, good night kiss. Thorin immediately went for another, but the Hufflepuff stopped him, pressing a hand against his chest.

     “Thorin, if you kiss me again, I won’t be able to stop.”

     “And that would be bad because…?”

     “ _Thorin_.”

     “Alright, alright,” Thorin said, placing a last kiss on the palm of Bilbo’s hand before reluctantly letting it go.

     “Good night, Thorin.”

     “Good night, Bilbo. Sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this fic! Just wanted to thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I'll work on some more installments in this series as soon as possible. :)

**Author's Note:**

> If this one goes well, I'm planning on doing a series of fics consisting of mostly one-shots (this will probably be the only one with multiple chapters). Hope you all like it so far! Feedback is very much appreciated! ♥
> 
> Also feel free to cry over Bagginshield with me on [Tumblr](http://acornandarkenstone.tumblr.com/)!


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